


Big Sis Winter explains Dust

by Deamon_Hunter



Series: RWBY Moncon Submissions [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deamon_Hunter/pseuds/Deamon_Hunter
Summary: Weiss doesn't understand Dust, fortunately Winter is there to try to explain things. Emphasis on the try.





	Big Sis Winter explains Dust

 

               Winter sat at her desk in the Schnee manor, writing yet another thank you note for a gift she wasn’t interested in receiving. Her frown turned into a grimace, she hated this, hated it with a passion. She hated this house, most of her family, and most of the social elite and sycophants that threatened to swallow her whole. She stopped writing as she picked up the note, a decided to read aloud.

               “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Blanc, My sincerest thanks for the Vacuan sapphire necklace. I shall always treasure it.” She stopped, tossing the note back onto her desk. It was disingenuous, it _dripped_ with insincerity. But of course, it was. The necklace, which probably costed the equivalent of several dozen Schnee miners annual wages, rested at the top of a pile of other similar gifts over the years. Each gathering dust in the back of her closet.

               Winter hated jewelry, it only got in the way during a fight. She only got her ears pierced because her father practically forced her to.

               She folded up the letter and put it in an envelope, placing it off to the side for later. Taking another loose-leaf page, she looked at the next name on her list.

               “Councilman Mozer, what a pig.” She hissed, before turning back to the letter.

               Her door opened without warning, a telltale sign of who opened it. Anyone else would have had the courtesy to knock, even Whitley wasn’t that rude.

               Of course, the man who did so would have said it was his house, and he could enter whatever room he wished, whenever he wished.

               “Father.” She said with a clipped tone, barely turning her head towards the door way.

               Her father stood, prim and proper as always, in an immaculate white suit. But that was where any semblance of elegance and civility ended. Gripped tightly in his right hand, was the arm of Weiss.

               She looked frightened, trying her best to inch away from their father, uncertainty plaguing her face. Winter’s eyes narrowed, she didn’t know why Jacques was here, but it was never for a good reason. There was little good in Jacques, if any at all.

               “Weiss here needs a lesson.” Jacques said.

               Winter gritted her teeth. She would not lay a hand on her sister, and if Jacques thought Winter would sit idly by while he did, He would find what an aspiring Huntress in training could really do.

               “She has failed to grasp even the Basics of Dust.” He explained coldly, the information flooding Winter with relief as she realized her father was not going hurt Weiss.

 “Her tutor,” the words coming out with a near snarl, “thought it would be best if you explained it to her.” He said realizing Weiss’ arm and not-too-gently shoving her into Winter’s room.

               “She always listens to you. I expect results, you have a hour.” He said, the undercurrent of a threat clear in his voice, but thankfully hidden well enough that Weiss, clearly struggling to hold back tears, didn’t notice it.

               Jacques turned, and closed the door behind him, his footsteps fading quickly.

               Weiss almost immediately let out a ragged breath.

               Winter knelt beside her sister, wrapping the poor girl in a warm, if awkward, embrace.

               “It’ll be alright Weiss.” She said. She felt, rather than saw Weiss nod. She soon ended the embrace, lifting her sister and placing her on winter’s bed. Weiss, the brave seven year old that she was, looked somewhere between angry and sad, it would have been adorable if she had been from any other family, but Winter could empathize, she had felt what Weiss was currently feeling many time over.

               “Ok.” Winter began, deciding it would be best to begin Weiss’s lesson, “Where does Dust Come from?”

               “The ground.” Weiss dutifully answered.

               Winter nodded, that was a good start.

               “And how is Dust formed?”

               “It’s formed from the dead skin cells of a fairy’s wings. That’s why it has magical properties.” Weiss said, her face beaming with pride at her vast and diverse knowledge base.

               Winter stared at her sister lamely, her mind drawing a blank on how to respond.

               “Winter are you okay?” Weiss asked worriedly.

               “Yes, fine,” Winter said automatically, she cleared her throat, “And… well… who told you about the fairies and whatnot?”

               “Klein did.” Weiss replied, “although he did say not to mention the fairies.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “Father doesn’t believe in them.” She whispered.

               Winter nodded, making a not to have a private talk with Klein at a later date. It would not do for Weiss to mix up fairytales with real life. The consequences were unthinkable, what if she ended up wearing red cape everywhere like Little Red Riding Hood? Their parents (or their father at least) would kill her!

               “Well, uh, Klein was wrong about the fairies, fairies aren’t involved in making Dust.”

               Weiss looked at her quizzically. This revelation was confusing to the young girl. “Then why does Dust have inherent magical properties?”

               While Winter would have praised her use of complex vocabulary at such an early age; the fact the sentence had “magical” in it was problematic.

               “Weiss, there’s nothing magical about Dust.” She said gently, trying to let her sister down easily.

               Winter went on to explain to her sister the properties of Dust, how it developed, and the history of people harnessing it. She went through the earliest uses, for fire, to more nefarious ones, like weapons of war. She talked about Dust use during the industrial revolution, all the way to the founding of SDC’s Dust refinement processes. Other children her sister’s age would have fallen asleep within the first five minutes, but Weiss listened intently, absorbing the information like a wet sponge.

               “That still doesn’t explain why Dust has magical properties. It shoots lightning, or fire or ice and stuff.” Weiss complained, throwing her arms above her head and falling back on the bed, clearly unsatisfied with Winter’s exhaustive explanation.

               “Weiss,” Winter said, “I explained that the subatomic particles in Dust allow those reactions to take place.”

               “But why?”

               “Because Dust is made of inherently unstable atomic particles and isotopes. That’s why dropping a vial of dust can be so dangerous.”

               “But _why_ are the atoms dangerous?”

               “Because of their structure.”

               “But _why_ were they designed to be unstable?”

               “They weren’t designed Weiss, that’s just how it happened.”

               “But _why_?”

               “I don’t know Weiss.” Winter conceded. Her talents were numerous, but atomic theory was not among them. At this point, Winter doubted a library on Atoms could satisfactorily answer Weiss’ question. Fortunately for Winter, Weiss came up with a simple answer.

               “So, a wizard, did it?”

               Winter froze. Seriously? They were back at magic already? It had been less than an hour since Weiss thought Dust was literally fairy dust. She rubbed her forehead, trying to hide her face from her sister, who was beaming at her expectantly.

               “That could be the reason Weiss,” Winter conceded, “but I think you shouldn’t mention that to father.” She warned. Winter had yielded to the infallible logic of a child: keep asking why and eventually a wizard (or magic) will get involved.

               “I knew it!” Weiss exclaimed leaping up on the bed “Magic is real!” She cheered as she jumped off the bed, landing in a crouch before bolting to the door, yanking it open quickly. She turned, a bright beaming smile on her face, “Thanks Winter,” She sang before charging out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

               Winter looked on dumbly, Weiss’ reaction was confounding. Winter shook her head yielding to yet another bit of childish logic: run fast enough and you’ll _never_ get in trouble. Winter certainly hoped no child had that ability, it would be a nightmare for the child’s parents.

               “At least she’s feeling better” Winter muttered as she sat back down at her desk, looking over her list of letters to write. Her eyes fell on a single name: James Ironwood, Headmaster of Atlas Academy. She smiled, a plan forming in her head as she put pen to paper.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this came from a moncon entry called "Winter, What is Sex?" by God Emperor Penguin. Granted, Dust is not as funny as sex, but I thought I'd try my hand at it.
> 
> What did you think? Leave you thoughts in the comments!


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